


Goldilocks

by EmberCelica



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberCelica/pseuds/EmberCelica
Summary: Why'd you dye your hair, Joe?





	Goldilocks

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt "for science!" and for 2ndplacewins on tumblr.

“Why'd you dye your hair?” Patrick asks, when they leave a house the next morning. More like noon, actually. It’s driving days today and tomorrow, and Patricks grateful for that, because his voice is nothing more than a wispy rasp right now.

Patrick’s in the backseat of the van, behind the driver’s seat where Andy takes first shift. There’s something he’s sitting on that’s digging in his thigh, maybe a pen, but he can’t help but stare at Joe in the passenger seat. Joe’s head is bent down, looking at the map in his lap. He’s mouthing the name of cities and routes, and Patrick looks away when he realizes he’s staring.

He remembers that Joe disappeared upstairs before they had gone to sleep, and Patrick would have stayed up for him to come back, stomach turmoiling for reasons he didn’t know why (maybe the very rational thought that Joe would rather be making himself cozy in their host's bed tonight), but Pete had wrapped his arms around his neck and started to whisper to him about movies and candy and how they need another movie binge, stat, and Patrick was lulled to sleep by the murmur of Pete’s voice in his ear.

It had been a startling discovery first thing in the morning, waking up to the smell of breakfast (!) and then seeing Joe with a head full of blonde hair (!!!!!???¿¿) in the kitchen, helping cook with their host.

For girls?” Pete chimes in, knee bumping into the plastic cup of tea Patrick was gifted by Jane before leaving. She was nice, had long blonde hair and a parakeet she kept in a huge cage in the living room. Patrick lifted his hand and took a sip as Pete took over talking. “Jane ask you to try on a dress too?”

Joe snorts, too busy figuring out their route to turn around and punch Pete in the backseat, so Patrick does it for him. The tea almost spills. It’s a worthy casualty.

“Blonde hair isn’t gonna get anyone to notice me,” Joe says adamantly. Patrick opens his mouth to disagree, because it certainly got his attention. But Pete is watching, always too in the know with Patrick's mind (more than Patrick is, at times) and Patrick takes another gulp instead of saying what he wants to say. “Every band has a blonde in it. We needed more diversity in hair color, dude. We have black hair—“

“Black and red,” Pete corrects, touching the top of his hair. "Hm. Maybe I should pick up something next time we stop at Walmart."

“Black and shitty remnants of red dye, yes. Patrick’s ginger-strawberry blonde-brown something,“ Joe turns around to make quick eye contact with Patrick, then looks away and runs his hand through his hair. He faces forward again. “and Andy’s regular brown hair, which looks like a girl’s.” 

Andy says, "Shut up, box blonde."

"You know I love you, dear Burley,” Joe answers. “And it’s bleach, actually. Exit left in eighteen miles."

Pete leans on the front seat, right up against the back of Joe’s head. He runs a hand through the new-golden curls. Patrick’s struck with a hint of curiosity on how it feels. “So this is, what, balancing it out?”

Patrick shakes his head and erases the sight of Joe shivering with Pete pulling on his hair, trailing down to the nape of his neck. The curls were less golden and more caramel, light brown, whatever. Patrick's conscious is an asshole and makes him jump to his immediate thoughts, which is how Joe looks not only blonde, but super clean. He think he can smells something flowery wafting off him. Patrick doesn't want to be haunted by thoughts of Joe showering, running his hands through his hair, the water dripping and sliding down his head and shoulders. He doesn't even know why he's thinking about it. Or the shower. Fuck.   
  
"Fuck," Patrick says out loud. "I forgot to shower." You can practically feel the  _well, duh_ the other three give him.  
  
_"None_ of us forgot that about you, buddy." Pete pats his shoulder. "No offense, but your stink is burning my nostrils and it's like, midday." Pete goes back to caressing Joe. "Unlike Joe here, who smells like a spring time meadow."

“For science,” Joe answers, and even though that makes no sense, it’s still a sufficient answer. Pete releases him with a friendly pet, then suddenly grabs him in a headlock. There’s shouting and laughing and Andy almost crashes the car but doesn’t. So everything’s normal.

—

“Honestly,” Joe tells him later. “I asked her to do it for me.”

Patrick spits into the sink. It’s a couple days after Jane’s, and Joe with blonde hair is easier to wake up to and see. They’re crashing at another house again, but instead of Joe going upstairs, it’s Andy. Also, Patrick has showered, so they're all winners tonight. “Wow. Did she say she liked guys with blonde hair?”

“No,” Joe says, leaning on the bathroom counter. It’s more like he’s sitting on it, waiting for Patrick to finish brushing his teeth. “She, uh, said she thought you were into blondes, because you kept looking at her the whole time we were there.” 

Huh. Patrick drops his toothbrush into its ziplock bag and closes it. Patrick doesn’t know what to say, or rather, he doesn’t know how to explain he kept looking at her the whole time because he couldn’t believe Joe was grenade-jumping. Talking about it was one thing; watching someone actually going to do it and having mixed up, bottled up feelings about said person was a whole other thing. “So. What did you tell her?”

There’s a pause before Joe answers. “I said, ‘I think he likes me, actually, but I’m not a hundred percent sure on that, so I’ll take a chance and do something stupid and see if something changes, because I like him a lot.‘”

Patrick looks up into the mirror, startled. The memory of looking at Joe with her is overtaken by quick stages surprise, embarrassment, fear? In the mirror, he sees the back of Joe’s head, but the side profile of him too, staring at Patrick.

“You did not,” Patrick says, accusatory.

“I didn’t,“ Joe admits, smiling. Patrick turns to look at the real Joe now, not the mirror. "I said ‘I’m willing to try anything.’ And she’s training to be a hairstylist, so it wasn’t too bad."

 Patrick smiles back, the feeling in his chest subsiding, replaced by that familiar, comfortable feeling he got when Joe was around. “So this was for science, right? She’s right, sort of. But I think I have more of a Joe preference than a hair color preference."

"Great, because I don’t think this is a good look for me.” Joe scratches his head, and Patrick remembers how Pete said that Joe’s hair would probably go from yellow to orange to bright, firetruck red, and he can’t _wait_  to see that mess happen.

Patrick tilts his head, pretending to think about it as Joe got closer, into his personal space. He wants to touch Joe’s hair, feel it all, see what happens if he tugs on it. But (and he’s willing to bet his next meal and his whole collection of records at home) he thinks he’ll have a lot of opportunities to, in the future. “I think it looks awesome, dude.”

The way Joe beams is brighter than his hair, and it makes Patrick so, so happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> while i was posting this a spider crawled onto my arm and then onto my pillow, so from this point on I can be contacted from a top secret underground bunker. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please comment and tell me what you think!


End file.
